So Much More than a Bete Noire
by DebajoDeLaCafeina
Summary: Will eventually be a sixchapter story. Nightmares destroy your dreams and haunt your waking days, and they cannot be escaped. Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Ziva, McGee and Abby's nightmares. Set postTwilight.
1. Gibbs

(A/N and Disclaimer: If we owned NCIS, Abby and McGee would be together and Twilight wouldn't have turned out as it did. But we don't, so that actually happened. Sadly. Nightmares affect everyone and they're so hard to get rid of or forget. This will eventually be a six chapter story, a chapter each for the _bete noire_ of Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Ziva, McGee and Abby. Post-Twilight so Kate isn't around -sniffle, sniffle- and I decided to stick my fingers in my ears, sing loudly and pretend the Director didn't exist for now. Alright, here I go)

* * *

Gibbs

_'Daddy!'_  
Gibbs looked up. A little girl of around eight years old with long, strawberry-blonde hair was running towards him. Her blue eyes were alight with childish happiness and she was smiling in the sunlight as she came nearer to him. An older woman was walking behind her, smiling at her daughter - and at him, her husband. He stood up as the little girl reached him, hugging him tightly around his waist.

'Hello, Kelly' he said softly.  
'I've missed you, Daddy, while you were away' Kelly removed her face from the front of his jacket and blinked up at him. Then, she smiled. He loved it when she smiled. She was so innocent, so young and so carefree it made him smile to see her.  
'Are you staying with us, now?'  
'Of course' Gibbs replied, stroking Kelly's long hair. How could he refuse? The woman had reached them by now, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder and smiling with eyes full of love at the pair of them.  
'Hello, Shannon'  
She smiled, slipping her hand into his and kissing his cheek so softly the contact was feather-light. Kelly linked her soft, warm fingers with his and they began to walk. He recognized the place now. It was the garden of their old house. Gibbs recalled the memories of playing games on the green lawn with Kelly, sitting with Shannon in the evening watching the sun set and listening to the crickets chirp. The memories swam in his head, feeling warm and as comforting as Shannon's hand in his. They walked along the gravel path down to the bottom of the garden. The gate. He remembered painting it just before Kelly's sixth birthday, using the precious time with his family wisely. Kelly ran to it and pushed it open, and the three of them walked through it together.

They were in the woods, where he and Shannon had come and walked hand-in-hand for miles when they were younger. _How did they get there from their old house in the suburbs_, he wondered to himself. But he forced himself not to question too much, even though that was what he had had bored into him as a Marine and gone on to drill into his agents. The sun was shining through the trees above them, and the air smelled sweet and fresh of outdoors. Kelly skipped along beside them, talking and laughing. Shannon's hand was still firm and soft in his and she spoke softly to him in his ear. That voice...he smiled slightly. Listening to them both talking, having them both there, _his _girls, made him feel warm and light with happiness. Then, Kelly stopped and turned to him.

'Will you play with me, Daddy?'  
'Of course' he replied, smiling at her. 'What do you want to play?'  
'Hide and seek, Daddy' she said, after a moments thought. It always had been her favourite game.  
'Is Mommy playing too?' she asked.  
'Sure, I am' Shannon replied. 'I'll go on your team to make it fair, Kelly'  
'You'll have to count to twenty and then you'll come and find us, right?' Kelly said, tugging gently at his sleeve. 'You'll have to find us, Daddy. Promise me you'll find us'  
'I promise' he told her, kissing her temple. 'You go on, I'm counting now. One...two...three...'  
He heard them tiptoe away, both stifling laughter. By the time he reached ten he couldn't hear them anymore. He couldn't hear anything. Total silence enveloped him. But he knew they couldn't have gone far, and Kelly could never stay silent for long.  
'...eighteen...nineteen...twenty' he finished eventually. 'Coming, ready or not'  
He took his hands from his eyes and turned round. They were nowhere to be seen. He began to search, looking around trees and through undergrowth. There was no sight of Shannon's' red hair or Kelly's lilac jumper, which Shannon had made for her at Christmas. He couldn't her Shannon hushing her daughter, or Kelly's youthful giggling. Nothing.  
Then, he heard a scream. Kelly's scream.

Gibbs began to run, trying to find the source of the noise; but the screaming was coming from all directions, an ear-splitting, terrified scream. Shannon was screaming now, screaming his name. The sound made his blood run cold.  
'Jethro, please...where are you?'  
_'Daddy, you said you were coming...'  
_'Jethro, help us!'  
_'Daddy...!'_  
'I'm coming!' he bellowed, hoping they heard him, praying he'd find them in time. They were nowhere to be found. The woods were spinning, the light from the sun shining through the leaves above his head blotted out. It was dark now, and the air was colder than he remembered. And the screaming was getting louder, ringing in his ears. He felt like a terrified child on a horrific fairground ride. He was terrified. It was starting all over again.

He stumbled blindly around, tripping over roots of trees and flailing his arms in front of him, desperately trying to find his girls and hold them, protect them save them from whatever was causing them such terrible pain. He could smell gasoline, for some reason. The smell of gasoline in an overgrown forest. His heart was pounding, choking him from the inside out. But he had to keep going. He had to find them.

Suddenly, the forest cleared. He was no longer surrounded by trees, but in the old NIS evidence yard. The garish, red and yellow sign on barbed wire fencing jolted his memory, and brought a sick stab of fear to the pit of his stomach. He had never been able to come near that place, not since...He shook his head, trying to shake the all-consuming fear and foreboding away. It was clearer and quieter than he remembered, and there was nobody else there. The only object to be seen was a single car, the black outer contrasting with the white inside. And there was something else...a splash of colour on the windshield. Gibbs moved closer, though all he wanted to do was run until his lungs imploded and his legs gave out and his heart stopped beating to get as far away as he possibly could.

He walked nearer to the vehicle until he could have reached out to touch it. His shaking hand moved closer, but he moved it away sharply; as if the car would bite or burn him. He could smell dust and exhaust fumes; and there was the metallic smell of blood in the air.  
_Blood. _Blood on the windshield. Shannon's blood. Kelly's blood, splattered across the dashboard. The blood that had seeped from their wounds as their lives slipped away from them; and they slipped away from him. The memory was choking him, constricting him. He had lost them. He hadn't been able to find them - but they were here. His stomach twisted in horror as he saw Shannon, her head bent forwards in death; still strapped into the drivers seat in which she had died. There too was Kelly, so sweet and pure and so irrevocably deceased, the blood from the gaping wound in her head all over her clothes and the dashboard in front of her.

'No...' he whispered, the single word echoing around him.  
'Yes, Jethro' Shannon's voice was cold and full of the closest thing to hatred he could ever imagine from her lips. She raised her head to look at him, her eyes narrow and so, so empty and cold. The bullet wound in her forehead was still raw and fresh; it made him want to scream and vomit simultaneously.  
'We are dead. And it's your fault. You said you'd protect us. 'Til death us do part, remember? What a joke'  
'Daddy, you promised you'd come and find me' Kelly's voice was full of hurt and resentment. It was almost more than Gibbs could take to see the mark in his beautiful little girl's head where that bastard had sent a slug ripping through her. 'You didn't get here in time. You didn't save me.'  
'Kelly...Shannon...no...' His voice was shaking like the rest of him, and his cheeks were wet but not just with perspiration.  
'You failed us' Shannon said harshly. 'You didn't come when we really needed you. You weren't there to take the slug for us - for me, your wife. For your little girl' He gestured sharply to Kelly, whose tears were mingling with the blood on her face.  
'I didn't...I never...'  
'You broke your promise, Daddy' Kelly sobbed. 'You let me die'  
'Kelly, no...'  
'You should have died. You should have died rather than let us die. Now, we're safe. We can never feel pain again. You have to live your life knowing that you killed us, your two girls. You killed me, Jethro'  
Gibbs broke down, slamming his palms into the car door. He looked up, his vision blurred; but he saw Kelly's young face, bloodied and tear-stained and so full of pain it made his heart break, lean over to look at him.  
_'You killed me, Daddy...'_

* * *

'NO!' Gibbs shot up, sitting upright in his bed. His covers had been tossed around and thrown off int he grip of his nightmare. Sweat was pouring down his face, his heart was pounding and his old NIS shirt was sticking to him. And the image of Kelly's bloodstained face wouldn't stop swimming before his eyes.  
'No...Kelly...Shannon...no...' he choked, his teeth gritted and his back shaking with sobs. He looked at the other side of his bed; wishing himself back to the days when he would wake up to Shannon's sleeping form beside him. Her words from his nightmare rang in his ears:  
_'You killed me, Jethro...'  
_'I'm sorry' he whispered into the darkness and quiet of his bedroom, his voice strangled. 'I'm so, so sorry'  
Jethro Gibbs sank back onto his pillows; tears coursing down his face in the knowledge that his nightmares - the dreams that held him deep in darkness and haunted him even when he was awake - were the only place he would ever see Shannon and Kelly again. 

_So I try to hold on to a time when  
Nothing mattered  
And I can't explain what happened  
And I can't erase the things that I've done  
No I can't...  
How could this happen to me?  
I've made my mistakes, got nowhere to run  
The night goes on as I'm fading away...  
I'm sick of this life  
I just wanna scream  
How could this happen to me?..._

* * *

(A/N: I got the details of the car from the episode Hiatus in Gibbs' recollections focusing on Shannon and Kelly's death. The song I used was a segment of a Simple Plan song (and yes, I do dislike the band with a passion but I think this song fitted the scenario) I think the title is _How Could This Happen to Me?_ I saw in in a fan video about Gibbs, Shannon and Kelly and it suited it so well I decided to use it. I'm planning on using a different song for each character and nightmare, so ideas would be appreciated. Next chapter: Ducky's _bete noire_) 


	2. Ducky

(Disclaimer: We own nothing. Let alone NCIS. This next chapter is Ducky's nightmare; I know the whole fic is set post-Twilight but this one centres round the episode Bete Noire, more specifically the autopsy scene. Or a version of it...Ducky's POV. Read it and figure out the rest)

* * *

Ducky

God, it's cold. After spending decades placing bodies into these coolers I never once imagined what it might be like to be inside one. I desperately want to shiver, but for some reason I can't. Maybe it has something to do with the tape and ropes still silencing and binding me. I would have tried to rip them away as that bastard strung Caitlin and myself up like joints of meat in a butcher's shop, but he made it quite clear what he would do if we tried to resist. My mind turns to Gerald. Poor Gerald. I feel as if it's my fault he had a bullet through his shoulder - ball and socket joint, to be precise; as that evil man had me remind Caitlin. All she was trying to do was help me, and once she began to comprehend the situation, to protect me. And now she's in a cooler; completely unable to move or communicate, as am I. Poor, poor Caitlin. She could easily have killed the man before - I know I wanted to - when she had that scalpel in her hand, but I stopped her. Her one shot at revenge. Sorry, Caitlin. It's all my fault...

_It's all my fault..._

I told Gerald to open the body bag. I attempted to trick that man; the nameless terrorist who simply got up from my Cadaver table, shot Gerald, terrified Caitlin and manipulated me into giving him what he wanted. I told Abby to come down here; and when she found herself unable to do so, she sent Caitlin. I wonder about her and Tony, probably still up in the bullpen waiting for news. I have no doubt in my mind that someone will have realized that all is not as it seems down here in autopsy. I heard that man speaking to Jethro before, telling him the 'rules'. Rules! The only rules I've ever listened to are Jethro's. Does this sadist think we here at NCIS are going to bow to his word? He might as well. He has injured one of our own and two others are trussed up in the body cooler. I hate to say it, but for now, that bastard appears to be calling the shots. How can this be happening here in my own autopsy room? But it is. And once again, the harsh reality bites into me, chilling me even more than the cold air in here. The only one to blame here is myself.

_It's all my fault..._

I may have developed the habit of talking to me patients, but that man out there is the first who has ever sat up and answered. It certainly gave me a turn. And many of my unfortunate patients have died at the barrel of a gun but none of them have ever got up and pointed one at me. The nerve! I can't help but wonder which agency he belongs to - for there is no doubt in my mind; and I'm certain Jethro will be thinking along the same lines, that the man is a terrorist. He certainly knows what he's doing. I wondered before if he had medical training, for he was so certain and precise about Gerald's injury that it made me think he may have been a pathologist. He knows far too much about how we people work. If he is, he disgraces the name of medicine. How can _animals _like him be allowed to work and live among normal people? The way he touched and looked at Caitlin before made me want to throw something. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have him on my table, but I have a horrible feeling that he won't be the next body on the table. And if it isn't...

_It's all my fault..._

I can hear voices, for the first time in a long time. It's so frustrating to be able to hear and to see and not to act on the stimuli reaching me. I can hear the terrorist talking; and a voice, a low buzz through the body cooler, is replying. I strain my ears to hear. Jethro? It can't be. But as I make out more words I recognize his tone and inflections. It is him. I hear him say something...'Not without Gerald'. The bastard must be trying to order Jethro around like he did Caitlin, Gerald and myself. But that was us, and this is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I would bet my bottom dollar that the terrorist won't have such an easy time of it now. But if anything did happen...Oh, God forbid if Jethro should come off worse in their little stand-off...

_It's all my fault..._

I can hear _him _repeating his instructions to Jethro. If it wasn't for this tape I'd be biting my lip. It wouldn't be like Jethro to start taking orders from a person like this, especially now. As expected, I hear him reply. 'Older doesn't mean deaf'. Good on him. I bet the bastard won't like that. Jethro threatens him; his tone light and even but the message still clear and cold as ice. I understand and appreciate how he's not letting the bastard get the better of him but I hope he knows when to bite his tongue. _He_'s replying. Something about Gerald wanting out of there alive. I feel dizzy with relief - or maybe it's just the air inside this cooler getting to me. At least he's still alive. I can't be sure about Caitlin; I was put in here before she was so I didn't see what happened afterwards. Oh, God; please let Caitlin be alright. Young Anthony would be devastated if anything happened to her. If it did, he would never forgive me.

_It's all my fault..._

The voices outside are growing steadily louder; angrier. I think Jethro asked about Caitlin and the bastard refused to give him a straight answer. If I wasn't tied up, my fists would be clenched. I want assurance that Caitlin is safe quite as much as Jethro does. I can't hear anything for a moment; silence has fallen. There was no gunshot so I'm sure Jethro is alright. Then, I hear the terrorist speak again. He must have come closer; his words are clearer now than ever before.  
'I am a serious man, Agent Gibbs. Take a look at your friend Doctor Mallard here, maybe that will prove to you how serious I am'  
I hear him open the cooler, only inches above my head. Is he...releasing me? I can't believe it. What twisted game is he playing now? He pulls out the drawer and I feel myself being slid out of the cooler, head first. The transition from the blue-lit cooler into the darkness of autopsy sends spots of colour dancing before my eyes. I heard Jethro inhale sharply.  
'Ducky...'  
I hear the bastard chuckle. 'This is what happens when you don't give me then answers I want, Agent Gibbs. You die'  
Who are they talking about? I can't move my head to look around. Gibbs rushes forward and for some reason the terrorist doesn't stop him. He brings the light from above the Cadaver table across, over me. As he fiddles with the switch with shaking hands I finally see what made him gasp before. Myself, mirrored in the casing of the light; pale as death with a perfect circular hole in my forehead. God Almighty...the bastard killed me.

My mind is a whirlwind as I try to recollect what happened before the terrorist forced me into the cooler. I remember Caitlin's terrified eyes...and a gun. A shot. Heat, then cold, then nothing. So that was death. Not quite the way I imagined it at all. Then, I have a horrible thought. Where is Caitlin?  
Jethro must be thinking along the same lines as I am. Tearing his eyes away from my body, he looks with pure hatred etched into his face at the terrorist. 'Where's Agent Todd?'  
'Right here' he replied silkily. He crosses over to the cooler and opens another drawer. I feel certain that Jethro was made to drop his weapon on entry because from the look on his face, he wants that bastard dead. So do I; but as I now know, I'm not in a position to do anything about it.  
He's pulling out a drawer adjacent to mine, but I can still see it clearly from my position. He's smiling. All the while he was touching Caitlin, checking for weapons, I could see the hunger in his eyes. It's there now as he pulls her out into the open. Her skin is white, as pale as death. And her brown eyes are empty of all emotion - oh, no. Not Caitlin...I see a trickle of dried blood across one side pf her face. She met the same end as I did. But whereas I had lived my life already, she was so young and had so much to live for. I feel a surge of hatred for the terrorist, looking at poor dead Caitlin with not a trace of remorse on his face. Jethro looks so angry, angrier than I've ever seen him; but as he looks from Caitlin to me I see he is fighting back pain and horrible grief, struggling to keep it hidden beneath the surface as he always would. Poor Jethro.

_It's all my fault..._

'Why...?' he manages to choke out, the single, quiet word seeming loud in the silence of autopsy. A silence emaciated by the presence of death.  
The bastard shrugs. 'Why not?' he replied, before raising his gun and firing a single shot.  
Jethro is unarmed, taken unawares, and powerless to defend himself. A single bullet rips through him in the same way it must have done to Caitlin and myself. If I could, I would shout out; but all I can do is watch as Jethro Gibbs crumples to the floor like a broken puppet. The terrorist smirks. I can barely believe it. He just shot dead NCIS's greatest agent and he's...smiling?  
I hear the door burst open, and Tony rushes into the room. He must have been outside and heard the shot. I didn't expect him to stay away from a fire fight when Gibbs was alone in here - he has been trained well - but I pray that he will run, save himself while he still can. He must be about five paces into the room before he stops, his breath catching audibly in his throat. He has seen the three of us, the silence and stillness of death enveloping our cold bodies. 'Ducky...Gibbs...oh, God...Kate...'  
The poor man. Walking in and finding us three dead...it must be terrible for him. Then I hear the skid of platform boots stopping on the autopsy floor. Dear God...Abby...not Abby too...  
'What the - Gibbs...Ducky...Kate...' She takes in the information faster than Tony and her voice catches with emotion. I hear her burst into tears. The terrorist merely looks bored by the proceedings.  
'You...you bastard!' Abby screams at him. 'You cold-blooded bastard!'  
'Why, thank you' he replies, a slight snarl in his voice. If my heart was still beating, it would have stopped at the moment when he turned the gun on the last two living members of the team. I hear two shots. The first, louder thump tells me he got Tony first; and Abby's scream confirms my worst fear: he got her too. Abby and Tony, who were like the children of our team along with Caitlin. I feel sick, cold, terrified, furiously angry. But there's nothing I can do. There's nothing any of us can do. I hear footsteps, the calm pace telling me it must be that bastard terrorist. So close...if I could, I would kill him. But I can't. I'd never felt so helpless.

_It's all my fault..._

He stops, bending over me. He looks pleased at his twisted accomplishment. Smirking at me, almost leering. I hear him chuckle.  
'Now, Doctor Mallard, to find out first-hand what your own forensic autopsies feel like'  
I see a scalpel glint in his hand. The light shining above the Cadaver table is too bright. The light is blinding me. I can't blink and I can't move. The light illuminates the whole room, blocking everything else from view...

_...and then...nothing..._

* * *

'Donald? _Donald?_'  
Ducky opened his eyes, dragging himself from the depth of his nightmare-tainted sleep. It was so cold. A glance around his room told him he had left the window open, explaining the temperature in his room. His mother was shaking him, looking disapprovingly at him from beneath her hairnet.  
'Wh - what's happened?'  
'You were shouting things' his mother informed him, looking at him beadily. 'It woke me up. You were shouting something about those colleagues of yours...and you kept saying 'no...it's my fault...all my fault...' over and over. Shall I get a doctor?'  
'Mother...' Ducky took a few deep breaths to steady his breathing and his pounding heart. 'I'm fine. Just a dream, that's all. You should go back to sleep...'  
'As should you, Donald! It's two o'clock in the morning. If you've woken the dog's up again, you'll have me to answer to' she said in a grumpy and disgruntled tone. Her voice and eyes softened as she looked at Donald. 'Are you sure you're quite alright?'  
'Mmm? Oh, yes...I'll be fine' He forced a smile. 'You go back to sleep. Goodnight, Mother'  
'Goodnight, Donald' she replied, shuffling out of the room in her bedroom slippers. As soon as he heard the door close to as she left, muttering to herself, he groaned.  
'It was just a dream' he murmured. 'Just a _bete noire_...'  
He turned over, and spotted the photograph on his wall illuminated by a beam of moonlight. The whole team - the old team. Himself and Jethro, the wise old veterans of NCIS. Abby and Tony, teasing each other and laughing. McGee, new to the team and still looking a little unsure, but happy. And...his stomach turned over as he looked at the fifth face. Caitlin. The image of her with a bullet through her head on his autopsy table returned to his mind, and he sighed.  
For Caitlin, the reality of death was so much more than just a _bete noire_.

_Has no one told you she's not breathing?__  
__Hello, I'm your mind, giving you someone to talk to...Hello..._  
_If I smile and don't believe_  
_Soon I know I'll wake from this dream_  
_Don't try to fix me_  
_I'm not broken_  
_Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide..._  
_Don't cry..._  
_Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping_  
_Hello, I'm still here, all that's left_ o_f yesterday..._

* * *

(A/N: I based the first bit on the actual events of Bete Noire and then turned the rest into a worst-case scenario for Ducky's nightmare. R&R appreciated, we like to know where we're going wrong and there's still 4 chapters to go! The song in this one was the beautiful Hello by Evanescence, one of my favourite bands. I thought it worked pretty well. Next up: Tony's nightmare)


	3. Tony

(Disclaimer: If we owned NCIS, Abby and McGee would be spawning baby Goths left, right and centre and Kate wouldn't have died. I'm sure DiNozzo would have preferred it that way too. Oh well. Here goes Chapter 3 - oh, and it's kinda Tate-ridden so if you don't like it...skip this chapter for now. Or, you could read it and be happy that Kate is dead. You sadist.)

* * *

Tony

He was there. He could see the figures above him on the rooftop in sharp relief against the blue sky. How ironic that today should be a sunny day. The background seemed oddly hazy, as if in a heatwave. He looked around, scanning the area. Gibbs was looking too, searching, his blue eyes hawk like. McGee was there too, looking as unsure and anxious as he did on his first day with NCIS. Kate was standing beside them, her jaw set. Her hand was reaching instinctively towards her own weapon, hidden inside her jacket. Reflex actions to cover up her fear. Tony wanted more than anything to reach out and hold her to reassure her. He didn't even care that Gibbs was there. But he fought the impulse and pulled out his own weapon, as Gibbs lifted his rifle and aimed and fired twice within a split second, once at a window and the second time at a terrorist. The man, standing on the roof above them, fell backwards with a yell. Even at times like this, you had to admit that Gibbs was a crack shot with any kind of gun. He was pulled out of his reverie by Gibbs barked orders.

'Tony, check the fire escape. Kate, you're with me. McGee, start tracking...' Gibbs was already moving, calling instructions over his shoulder. Tony headed off towards the fire escape, glancing at Kate, who was jogging to keep up between him and Gibbs. She was following Gibbs, but as he looked at her she turned and gave him the briefest of smiles. That was small reassurance for Tony and the three of them headed away from the car; McGee pulling out his laptop to get back to work on disarming the missile and remaining by the vehicle. Tony and Kate hurried after Gibbs, whose pace was quick and purposeful.

_One last chance..._

Tony drew his gun and headed for the fire escape. He saw Kate grab her gun as Gibbs opened a door beneath him. The pair of them lifted their weapons but apparently there was nobody there. He hoped it would stay that way as he began to climb. As he climbed deftly and quickly higher and higher, he heard gunfire open out beneath him. Shots resonated from inside the factory, making the ladder shake. Tony gritted his teeth and continued climbing. Judging from the audible return fire Kate and Gibbs were both alright. At least, so he hoped. Oh, God forbid if anything should happen to Kate after all they're been through...

_One last chance..._

From what Tony could hear there was one hell of a firefight going on inside. Though the resonating sound of the shots made his ears ring it was almost reassuring to know that the other two were alright. He hoped that Probie, working his magic on the computer back by the car, was alright. Of course they would be. They were NCIS agents, right?  
By this time, he was almost at the rooftop. Breathing a little heaving from his climb, he looked cautiously over the edge of the rooftop. The only human there was definitely a dead one, the man Gibbs had taken out before. He breathed a low sigh of relief and spoke into his headset to Gibbs:  
'Got one down, Boss...no visual on anyone else'  
'Let's do it' Gibbs command was the magic word that made Tony push himself up and jump up onto the rooftop. Majoring in Physical Education did have its uses no matter what McGee said. At the same time, Gibbs slammed open the door leading down to the main factory levels; alert and poised for a firefight, his gun drawn.

_One last chance..._

Almost immediately a dark-haired man lifted his own weapon and wheeled round, shooting right at Gibbs. He dived for cover just in time; Tony had to admire his reflexes even now. Tony raised his own gun but two well-aimed shots from the cover of the doorway told him that Kate had it covered. _Kate. _Relief flooded him momentarily but there was no time to run to her, check she was okay and tell her he was glad she was safe. Like hell she'd listen anyway. Tony jumped to his feet and moved quickly across the rooftop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gibbs and Kate get up and head in the same direction. He heard someone shout in another language; and sprinted in the direction of the sound. Peering around a wall, he saw two men - the one who had shot at Gibbs, and a second, crouched over a laptop. The sight made him wonder how McGee was doing. He hoped to hell that he would be able to shut down the damn frequencies fast enough. This guy looked like he meant business.

_One last chance..._

Trying to remember everything he had been taught while keeping an eye out for any gun-toting terrorists and taking careful aim, Tony fired. From another direction, Gibbs fired too - Tony knew from the sound of Gibbs' rifle - and the bullets hammered into their target who crumpled like paper and fell to the floor. Tony grimaced; he had never enjoyed killing. That was for these sick bastards to get a kick out of. But it was necessary, never more so than now. He took a deep breath and moved out of his cover, gun still raised at shoulder height and both hands on the trigger. He saw Gibbs and Kate move too, sprinting from different directions with their weapons drawn. The man on the laptop was unaware of the presence - for a moment at least. As soon as he saw them he swore in a foreign language, standing up. Gibbs was ready for him, shooting so fast the man didn't have time to draw his own weapon. He was dead before he hit the floor, making it safe for them to run towards the laptop. Tony noticed that the background was still hazy. It wasn't that hot, and he was sure his vision was fine. What was _with_ that?

_One last chance..._

They reached the laptop at the same time; guns still drawn out of instinct and habit. The display told them that the missile was still active. Tony swore inwardly. What the hell had McGee been doing all this time? Gibbs seemed to be thinking along the same lines, barking at McGee over the radio. Tony stole a glance at Kate. Her brow was tense with concentration on their task, and her eyes were wide and alert. Her hair was being blown everywhere by the wind on the rooftop, but she was still beautiful .Still Kate. And thankfully, still alive. They heard a gun being fired again and their heads turned, their guns were raised: but whoever it was was shooting at McGee and not them. They heard shots ring out, and Tony wondered if any of them had found their target. Then, to their relief, they heard McGee return fire, before radioing Gibbs. Apparently, his laptop had taken the slugs meant for him. He turned to Gibbs. If McGee couldn't do it, what hope did they have?  
'Know how to fly this thing?' he asked, gesturing to the computer.  
'Nope' Gibbs replied, lifting his rifle. 'But I know how to crash it'  
They all stepped backwards as Gibbs shot twice at the computer. The thing sparked and then went dead. Tony breathed a sigh. With luck, the missile would have been stopped dead too.  
'McGee, you okay?' Gibbs asked of their fellow agent. Thankfully, McGee replied sounding unhurt.  
'I got one terrorist inside, I don't know if I got him but he stopped shooting' he told them. Gibbs nodded at Kate and Tony.

_One last chance..._

'Hold your position. We'll flush him' Gibbs told McGee. Then, he turned to the other two, inspecting his weapon.  
'I'm out' he said.  
'Me too' Kate added, holding up her own gun. Tony reached into his pocket and passed a few slugs to Gibbs. Neither of them noticed the door open slowly behind them. But Kate did.  
Tony heard her cry out before he saw her drop her weapon, running in front of Gibbs before jumping. The slug slammed into her, sending her sprawling to the floor. The bottom seemed to drop out of Tony's stomach - but like Gibbs he instantly lifted his weapon and returned fire, each shot that rang in his ears like a prayer: _Let her be okay, let her be alive, dear God, don't let Kate die..._

_One last chance..._

Finally, the door was blasted open by one of their bullets and the next few caught the offender squarely in the chest, and he fell forwards. Tony's heart was pounding like a drum as he lowered his weapon and turned to Kate. She was lying on the floor, so still and unmoving. Gibbs was running towards her.  
'Kate?'  
Tony ran to her side as Gibbs turned her over, his breathing constricted by terror. Her face was empty of expression and her eyes were closed. They ripped open her NCIS jacket and her shirt - if she was conscious, she'd have shot _him _for that - and Tony felt light-headed with relief as he saw the single slug lodged in her bulletproof vest. She was okay...Relief flooded him for the second time that day in the knowledge that Kate was alive.

_One last chance..._

He sighed with relief as Gibbs shook his head in relief. Kate twitched, stirring.  
'You okay?' he asked her. She groaned, but didn't open her eyes.  
'Ow...' was his reply. Her eyes - her beautiful, brown eyes that he loved even when she was glaring at him - opened as she looked up at him. 'I just got shot a point-blank range, DiNozzo, what do you think?'  
That was his Kate. He allowed himself a small smile. 'You're not going to be going to Pilates class tomorrow?'  
She groaned again. Gibbs smiled too, as together they helped her stand up. She winced - Tony couldn't blame her - as they helped steady her on her feet.  
'Protection detail's over, Kate' Gibbs said softly, smiling at her.  
'You did good' Tony added, patting her shoulder. Kate smiled at him.

_One last chance..._

'For once, DiNozzo's right' Gibbs admitted, and Kate laughed. Her hair shone chestnut-gold in the sunlight, and her eyes shone as she smiled, just like they always had.

_One last chance..._

'Wow' she chuckled. 'I thought I'd die before I ever h-'

_You had your chance. Your last chance. So now..._

From out of nowhere, a bullet came towards them so fast that not even Gibbs could react. Tony saw it, but was powerless to act on it.  
Before anyone could say or do anything, the bullet ripped through Kate's forehead. Her brown hair flew up with the force of the shot, and her face contorted for a fraction of a second. Blood spattered onto Tony's face, the warm red liquid soaking his cheek. And Kate, wonderful, witty Caitlin Todd, fell slowly backwards onto the ground before Tony could reach out his arms to catch her.  
Her eyes were still open, and if it were not for the bullet hole in here forehead and the expanding pool of blood behind her, she might have been sleeping. Tony looked helplessly at her, unable to breathe, unable to think. She was gone. Gibbs' eyes were wild with shock, rage and pain. He turned his gun at a rooftop opposite, where a figure was moving out of range.  
'Ari...' he murmured, but Tony barely heard him. All he could think about was Kate, Kate and her final moments; Kate, teasing him in the bullpen; Kate, lying dead on the floor in front of him; just Kate, Kate, Kate. Every word she had ever spoken to him rang in his ears, taking over his brain until she was all that existed. Except that now, she didn't.

_'Oh, no! I draw the line at him sitting in the president's chair!'...  
'I was in the Secret Service, we tend to get all hot and bothered over large numbers of $100 bills. '...  
'That's your way of saying you missed me, isn't it? '...  
'...Tony. If you're happy with the way you are that's all that counts.'..  
'What was it like, tonguing a guy? '...  
'That was very enlightening DiNozzo, and I do understand now. You think like a Neanderthal. '...  
'You don't use the whole chicken? '..._  
'Wow, I thought I'd die before I ever h-...' The last words of Caitlin Todd. The final words ever to be spoken by the woman...the woman he loved.

And now realization hit him and Tony sank to his knees beside Kate, everything else becoming blurred by tears. Sobbing unrestrainedly, he scooped her limp, rapidly cooling form into his arms and clutched her tightly. How could anything ever be right or bright again? If fact, that sky was darkening; and there was a rumble like thunder in the air. A dark cloud was growing closer and closer, heading towards them. A storm...no, on second thoughts the thunder sounded more like humming. A drum roll. The beating of a million tiny wings. Tony stood up, cradling Kate's body in his arms. The cloud - no, the swarm - was growing ever closer. Even if he ran, there was no chance he would get away. Again, hating himself for it, Tony stood still and helpless as a statue.

Then suddenly they were all around him, flapping their tiny leathery wings around his body and on his face, deafening him with their high-pitched squeaking. Tony tried to fight them away, if not from him then from Kate - but she was gone. Looking down, his arms were empty. He searched around in horror - he couldn't lose her today a second time, he couldn't take it - crawling along the floor in a desperate attempt to locate her body. Then suddenly, he came face to face with a pair of feet, the skin of the legs attached to them as pale as death, encased in a pair of high-heeled, black leather boots. Abby couldn't be here. She wasn't here. He stood up, and found himself face to face with-  
'_Kate?_' he said, in shock and in horror. But she didn't look like Kate. The little colour her face had had even in death was gone; her skin was as white a chalk. Her hair was dark, black, not the warm brown he remembered; and she was dressed in clothes he had never seen her in before. Her eyes were what really scared him. No whites, just liquid black through and through and so cold and evil that it made him want to recoil.  
She smiled, and his heart nearly stopped when he noticed the sharp point to her teeth. Then, she gave a hissing, angry snarl; and launched herself at him. Sinking her teeth into his neck, he felt her sucking his blood, sucking his life and humanity and sanity away, and soon he would be as dead as she was, as dead as she had been lying in his arms. He screamed until he was too weak to call out; there was no point anyway, nobody would ever hear him. And the creature was still draining him, and the hideous little bats were still flying all around him; and their cries were deafening, ringing in his ears like that one last gunshot. The gunshot that took his Kate away from him.

He could feel himself falling...

* * *

'Kate...'  
That was the first word out of Tony's mouth as he opened his eyes. His breath coming in quick gasps, and his heart beating furiously in his chest he sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. A glance around him told him he wasn't alone - there was a woman there, naked in the bed beside him. She was sleeping peacefully, no nightmares poisoning her sleep. The thought of him being with her, touching her when Kate was cold and dead below the ground made bile rise in Tony's throat. He got up, scrambling out of bed and heading for the bathroom, determined to put as much space between the woman and himself as possible. What was here name? Annie? Amy? He didn't know and he didn't care. Locking the bathroom door, he pressed his hands against the mirror, staring at his wide-eyed, sweating reflection. No matter how hard he tried he kept seeing himself with Kate's scarlet blood splattered across his face. He was shaking. Slamming his fists down against the mirror, he pressed his forehead against the cool glass. He could feel her there, he could see her coming up behind him; punching him gently on the arm, patting his shoulder, reassuring him. Maybe of he wished hard enough, maybe if he pictures Kate there for long enough it would bring her back.  
Tony DiNozzo's breath caught in his throat as the tears that threatened to fall finally did, spilling down his cheeks. He could hear that other woman calling his name, tapping gently on the bathroom door. But she wasn't Kate, so it didn't matter. When Kate came to wake him from another night of dreaming about her; he would be alright. Until then, he resigned himself to torturing himself day and night willing her to live again. He sank to the floor, sobbing in pain and anger.  
He missed her.  
And unless someone could turn back time and erase that terrible day when he lost her forever, he would always miss her.

_Hello there, the angel from my nightmare  
The shadow in the background of the morgue  
The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley  
We could live like Jack and Sally if you want  
Where you could always find me  
We'd have Halloween on Christmas  
And in the night, we'd wish this never ends  
We'd wish this never ends  
Don't waste your time on me, you're already the voice inside my head...  
I miss you...

* * *

_(A/N: Three chapters in one day, doing alreet, are we not? Thanks to Special Agent Meg for reviewing the first two chapters, I hope you enjoyed this one too. The song is I Miss You by Blink-182 (another favourite of mine). R&R appreciated. Next chapter: Ziva's _bete noire_.)  



	4. Ziva

(Disclaimer: If we owned NCIS, Boxed In and Undercovers would have been so much more X-rated. This chapter is Ziva's nightmare, it's a little like Thinking Of You in the fact that it relates to the death of Tali, Ziva's little sister, in a Hamas suicide bombing at the age of sixteen. Poor Ziva (though Kels doesn't agree with me, she's still in denial about the final few moments of Twilight...) Anyway, part 4. Here we go!)

* * *

Ziva

_Breathe..._

The heat was the first thing she remembered. Burning, suffocating; the very air around her was on fire. Ziva coughed, trying to expel the hot, dusty air from her lungs. She coughed until her throat was raw, struggling to stand though she couldn't see. her ears were ringing from the sound of the explosion and she could barely breathe. As she managed to force her eyes open, trying to squint through the heavy, murky air; the horrible realization hit her.  
_Tali.  
_She ached from being thrown to the floor in the blast, her breathing was still shallow and congested by dirt and smoke in the air and her head was pounding. Her superiors were getting up beside her; calling her name, checking she was still alright. Well, if she wasn't now she would be. But Tali...there was no way of knowing. Her concern for the other agents paled in comparison and faded totally compared to the fear gnawing a hole in the pit of her stomach for her sister's safety. Ignoring the senior agents concerned questions, Ziva took a deep breath of dusty air and sprinted out of the room; making for the door as fast as she could move. Her body protested but she blocked out her pain and ran, down the stairs and out of the door on the ground floor, flying out into the street as if by running faster she could leave the fear and foreboding behind her.

_Breathe..._

_Breathe, Ziva, just breathe. You can't find Tali if you stop breathing_; she told herself. The street around her was a mess. Stunned civilians were calling out, crying in fear, shock or in the case of the injured, in pain. Ziva couldn't hear Tali's voice, so alive and clear and well moments ago across the radio; at all. The fear in her stomach bubbled like acid, and Ziva forced herself to keep running, zig-zagging between other people as she began to search for her sister. She could see the place where the bomb had been detonated, exploding into oblivion and taking the person who had detonated the blast with it. It certainly seemed to have done enough damage. She remembered that the reason she was there, the reason her baby sister was there on this dangerous assignment was to find and isolate their suspect in his home so very near where the bomb had gone off. The blast had probably scared him into fleeing, but Ziva hardly cared. All that mattered was finding Tali. When she could take Tali into her arms and reassure her that everything was alright, she would be close to content. Until then, all she could do was search.

_Breathe..._

As her well-trained eyes scoured the chaotic street for any sign of Tali, panic began to grip Ziva and her breathing, already laboured from the dusty air, became even more constricted. She stopped, pushing both hands against her chest and trying to steady her breathing. The way she had seen her mother do in those hours when every inhale and exhale brought a stab of excruciating pain and made her groan with agony, in the final grasp of the illness that had claimed her life. Images of her mother in her final days alive swam to the fore of Ziva's mind, but she pushed them down, deeper and deeper until her mind was clear and focused on the only goal that mattered. Finding Tali. Straining her eyes and ears for any indication that her sister was nearby, she clenched her fists to stop her hands shaking and returned to her search.

_Breathe..._

The closer she got to the detonation area, the worse the casualties and destruction around her became. Ziva felt sad and guilty for not stopping to comfort and help the injured people wailing in the street around her; but she couldn't stop. Not until Tali was safe. An older man lay on the floor, groaning; a small girl crying and shaking him. His arms were burned and bleeding; Ziva guessed from his injuries that he had been very close to the bomber when the blast occurred. Others were no longer groaning, succumbing to the blissful release of eternal sleep to escape the agony of their wounds. Ziva shook herself mentally to rid the image of Tali, lying unmoving on the ground, from her mind. She would find her. She had to find her. She repeated the words to herself under her breath as she looked with increasing fear in her dark eyes around the street. No Tali. She had been right around here...

_Breathe..._

There was no way she could have gone far, Ziva reasoned. She may have been thrown backwards by the blast and landed a few feet away, but...She bit her lip until she tasted blood. The pain brought her back to her senses and she carried on searching with increasing urgency for Tali. Maybe she had got up and began searching for Ziva, just like she was looking for her. Their paths might have already crossed and in their panic they might not have recognized each other. But Ziva had seen Tali every day since her birth; there was no chance she would have missed her. She resisted the urge to turn back and check the whole street again as she came into the blast zone.

_Breathe..._

Here, the damage was at its worst. The walls were black from the explosion, and the blood and other remains of the bomber were central to the circle of destruction. The dust was still clearing, and Ziva blinking rapidly to see through the haze of airborne debris and dust. She could make out the walls of the houses on either side, and a few shapes on the floor. She knew not whether these were objects or bodies. Fanning the dust and dirt from her face, she saw a body lying face-down on the ground; wrapped in a white cloth. It looked horribly like a shroud...and the closer she went and the more the visibility increased, the person looked chillingly familiar...  
Then, realization slammed into her with all the force of a freight train. Tali was wearing a white wrap.  
Which could only mean...

_Breathe..._

Ziva moved so fast towards Tali's limp form on the floor that her feet barely touched the ground; but to her everything seemed slow, dreamlike, irrelevant. The only real thing was Tali. Ziva flung herself down beside her and turned her over, cradling her head in her lap. Tali was warm but as limp and lifeless as a rag doll. Her dark eyes, so like her mothers, were open, glassy, expressionless. Ziva's stomach tightened with terror, and she fought back a sob as she shook Tali. The lump in her throat made it even harder to breathe, but right now she didn't care if her heart stopped beating and she never breathed again. All that mattered was Tali.

_Breathe..._

'Tali, it's Ziva. I'm here, it's okay...' But everything was not okay. Ziva's vision blurred with tears as she shook Tali again; willing her to speak, to blink, to wake up. To give some sign to Ziva that she wasn't already...she couldn't even think it.  
'Tali, please; wake up, you have to wake up...I need you to wake up...Tali; oh, God, please, let her wake up...wake up...breathe, Tali' Ziva whispered, her own words catching in her throat with emotion. Shaking uncontrollably, she placed a hand just over Tali's mouth. There was nothing, no warm breath; no cough as Tali spasmed back into consciousness. Ziva pinched Tali's nostrils and leaned over her, breathing for her, forcing air into her lungs, trying to force life back into Tali's unresponsive body.

_Breathe..._

Tali, you have to breathe...' she sobbed, hot tears finally spilling down her cheeks. They fell onto Tali's face, the salty liquid trickling down her cheeks too. Ziva cradled her sister's body, pulling her closer, as if by decreasing the space between them she could pass life on to her.  
'Tali, breathe...please, honey...just breathe...' she said into her sisters ear, trembling with sobs. She heard voices behind her. The rest of their team were approaching. She heard someone say Tali's name, calling to them, asking if they were alright. Yes, Tali was alright now. But it was Ziva who would never be alright again. Nothing would. Not unless she could make Tali breathe.

_Breathe..._

'Tali David, breathe for me' But she lay unresponsive in Ziva's arms, the little colour and warmth her body had left slowly disappearing. But she wouldn't give up. Her pain and fear blocking out the words of their colleagues, the cries of the injured and bereaved around them, she bent over Tali again and attempted to resuscitate her for a second time. She could barely breathe herself for crying, but she hung on to the slim hope that she could somehow bring Tali back, back from the shadowy unknown place that no amount of tears or pleading could return her. She couldn't die. She had been so alive. So young. Too young. Too innocent. She was only sixteen.

_Breathe..._

'Ziva...' Another agent, dusty and dirty with a cut bleeding on the side of his face, bent down beside her. 'Ziva...there's nothing you can do for her'  
Ziva recoiled from his touch as if he had burned her. 'No...she's not dead...SHE'S NOT DEAD!' she screamed. The other agents glanced at each other, half with embarrassment, the other terrible pity. She didn't want their pity. All she wanted was for Tali to live.  
'I have to make her breathe' she sobbed, pushing Tali's long dark hair out of a bleeding gash on her forehead and clutching her body to her. She was cold now. So cold...and still not breathing. It had been too long now. Tali had run out of time. They all had.

_Breathe..._

'Ziva, what have you _done_?...'

_'Tali, you have to breathe for me...Please, darling, just breathe...'  
_Breathe...  
_Breathe...  
_BREATHE...  
_Please...just...breathe...  
Breathe..._

_

* * *

_

Ziva awoke, choking and gasping. Her face had been pressed into her pillow, making it near impossible for her to breathe. She grasped at her bedclothes, shuddering as cool night air was forced back into her aching lungs. But it wasn't just the oxygen deprivation that was making Ziva shake. In her dream, she had visited yet again a part of her memory that haunted her every day and returned to torture her while she slept.  
Steadying her breathing as best as she could, Ziva pushed her tousled hair off her face and lay back against her pillows. Remembering Tali's death was never more vivid and terrifying than in her nightmares, and tonight was the worst for a long while. During the day, she had her work to distract her and keep the memories away...but while she slept, she had no defense. And neither had Tali on that terrible day when she was ripped away from them all forever. Ziva's eyes were stinging, but not from her near-suffocation as she slept. Her dark eyes shimmered with tears in the moonlight; something she had never let happen in public. Until that day when the pain of loss was so fresh and real that she couldn't bear to pretend she felt nothing.  
She blinked, and a few warm tears trickled across her face. She pressed her lips together to stop a sob escaping. She tried to think of something else, something that would not reduce her to tears and destroy any peaceful sleep she had. But all she could think of was Tali, lying dead in her arms; and the black feeling of hopelessness that Ziva felt when she was unable to save her.  
She should have protected her. But she didn't. She should have saved her, but she hadn't. And now all she could do was remember Tali, and miss her so badly it hurt.  
She missed her. With every breath and every heartbeat, she missed her.  
Ziva rolled onto her stomach, burying her head in her hands to muffle her uncontrollable sobbing.  
As long as Tali was dead, hidden in the depths of shadow and memory where nobody could reach her; and as long as the blame for her death rested on Ziva's shoulders; Ziva David didn't care at all if she never breathed again.

_Stay low; soft, dark, and dreamless  
Far beneath my nightmares and loneliness  
I hate me for breathing without you  
I don't want to feel anymore for you...  
I long to be like you, sis  
Lie cold in the ground like you did  
There's room inside for two and I'm not grieving for you...  
I'm coming for you..._

* * *

(A/N: The song is a part of the beautiful (bus so sad!) Like You by Evanescence. Sorry if this chapter is a bit too similar to Thinking of You; but I thought the song and the nightmare would fit together so well I didn't want to change it. R&R if you so with; thanks to MoreGoth and Ladybrin as well as Special Agent Meg for reviewing already. Next Chapter: McGee's nightmare) 


	5. McGee

(_Disclaimer_ and A/N: If this was ours, Ari would be worse than dead and Abby and McGee would be much more than 'just good friends. Big muchas gracias to everyone who's reviewing/reading and suchlike, we really appreciate it. This chapter - 5, and it's McGee's nightmare so if it's in the wrong order I apologize - is McAbby so if you don't like, don't read. This one was entirely Kelsey's, including the song choice - bar this little snippet, obviously. _Porque soy su hermana, pienso hizo un buen trabajo_. But that's my lot finished. Hope you enjoy.)

* * *

McGee

_You failed me..._

Tim McGee opened his eyes slowly; blinking into consciousness and returning from the warm depths of sleep to the cool, dark room he was in. As he surveyed his surroundings; he remembered where he was. Even through the dark, the neon-coloured enlargements of gruesome injuries were visible hanging on the walls and he thought he could make out the shape of a stuffed hippo lying on the floor across the room. The black curtains blocked out almost all the light from the twilight world outside but a chink of brilliant moonlight shone through the heavy material, illuminating the room. He turned to face her, moving carefully so as not to wake her. He realized he was in her coffin with her, and wondered how he had managed to get there; before deciding not to think too much about it. Abby was right - as always. Sometimes he did worry too much.

_You failed me..._

Her face was even whiter illuminated by the beam of moonlight than it was in the day. Her green eyes were closed, and her lips parted slightly in sleep. He wondered what she dreamed about. Her black hair tumbled loose around her shoulders; the black silky strands contrasting with the white cotton of her long, Victorian-style nightdress. He couldn't resist stroking away a stray tendril of hair from her face. In the dark room her pale face was the clearest visible thing, lit up by the moonlight - but then, to him, she always did light up the room. In his job, sometimes nothing made sense and he longed form something real to hang on to. And when he got down to the lab, breathing in the residual scent of chemical cocktails and gunpowder perfume, the robotic heartbeat of the many machines bleeping and humming in rhythm filling his ears, he could fall into her open arms and find it. For a moment he could forget his failings and hesitation, let Gibbs' disapproving admonishments and Tony and Ziva's taunts leave his mind and focus on her. It was welcome relief from the feeling of hopelessness that so often overwhelmed him.

_You failed me..._

He kissed her cheek gently; and her eyelids flickered and opened. He felt guilty for waking her when she had been sleeping so peacefully; but she didn't seem to bear a grudge at her accidental awakening. Her black lips curved at the edges into a small smile.  
'Hello, you' she whispered; and leaned forward to kiss him. She tasted of Caff-Pow and lipstick and _her_; a unique and irresistible taste that made his heart speed up and fireworks explode behind his eyes. It was all he could do to kiss her back. He held her tightly and they were melting into a sparkling omniverse of sensations and stimuli when the doorbell rang; startling them into springing apart like teenagers caught in _flagrante delicto. _Abby smiled apologetically; pushing her hair back from her face. He loved it when she smiled, her glittering green eyes smiling as well as her mouth. He would walk a thousand miles for her if he could see her smile at the end of it.  
'I'd better go and get that' she said; yawning. 'Who the hell decided to drop by my apartment at 2AM?'  
'Don't be too long' he whispered. She smiled again, kissed his cheek and got up. He watched her transfixed as she went to the front door of her apartment; before mentally shaking himself and half-smiling. DiNozzo was rubbing off on him. But it always had amazed him how she could be so beautiful minutes after waking up. She never ceased in amazing him. Maybe, after the general sobriety of his youth; it was her quirky personality and the fact that she was totally different to any forensic scientist - scrap that, any _person_ he had ever met, that drew him to her. He sighed, thinking about Abby as he listened to her on her way to answer the door. The silence was so complete that he could have heard a pin drop; he could hear Abby clearly as anything as she moved through her small apartment.  
So when he heard her scream, it cut through the still silence like a knife through butter and made Tim's blood run cold.

_You failed me..._

In a split second, Tim threw himself out of bed and ran towards the door, following the echo of Abby's terrified scream. As he reached it; he saw Abby; from where she had been frozen in shock, she was rapidly moving backwards away from the figure at the door. A sick jolt in the pit of his stomach accompanied Tim's realization that the person had a knife; he could see the blade glinting silver in the moonlight. As the figure stepped into the apartment, slamming the door behind him; the same beam of moonlight that had illuminated Abby's pale, sleeping face so beautifully before cast that man's face into an unnerving half-shadow. Tim remembered that face; he had been haunted by the memory of his features every night and day since he first saw him. He half-glanced at Abby, who looked as if she was about to faint. No doubt the recollections of what had, and could have, happened back then were affecting her as they were him - only a million times worse. Tim wanted to reach out and hold her, to calm her and reassure her, but fear was gripping him too, rooting him to the spot and rendering him as immobile and useless as a statue.

_You failed me..._

Mikel Mawher looked from Tim to Abby, an ugly expression of furious hatred in his cold eyes.  
'_You_' he spat, waving the knife ominously at Tim as he stepped closer to them. 'I remember you. You're the one who tried to keep Abby away from me'  
'What are you doing here?' Tim demanded.  
'I came to talk to Abby' he said. 'I remembered the address of your apartment right, hey, Abs? That proves how much I love you'  
'That proves you're an obsessive creep' Abby replied, her voice shaking slightly. Her cold, trembling hand found Tim's, and he squeezed it gently. Mikel's eyes narrowed at the show of affection between the other two.  
'But I came all this way just for you. I only wanted to show how sorry I was; I just wanted to talk to you-'  
'Well, I don't want to talk to you' Abby told him. 'Now, Mikel; get out of my apartment'  
Ignoring her, he took a step closer to them. He noticed their attire; Abby, in her nightdress with her hair loose and tousled; Tim wearing only a t-shirt and boxer shorts. 'You're sleeping with him? Abby, how can you do this to me?...'  
'Yes, because you stalking me, scaring me, refusing to accept our relationship was over, writing a fake suicide note for me and almost letting some psycho murder me wasn't a bit twisted?' Abby said coolly. Tim admired her attitude even now but hoped Mikel wouldn't turn on them at her words. He glared at her, twisting the knife in his hands.  
'What do you want, Mikel?' Tim said, keeping his voice carefully even while trying to think like an agent. _What would Gibbs do?  
_Mikel looked the other man in the eyes. If looks could kill, Tim would have been cold on the floor with a chalk outline round his body.  
'I want Abby' he whispered. The words were so quiet that it made the statement even more chilling, and Abby recoiled slightly as he said her name. He lifted the knife again.  
'And if I can't have her...nobody else can'

_You failed me..._

He lunged, thrusting the knife forward so fast neither Tim nor Abby had a chance to react. As Tim realized what had happened, Mikel removed his shaking hand from the weapon as if unable to comprehend what he had done. Abby's eyes were wide in pain and shock, as she crumpled to the floor. It was all Tim could do, his chest constricted with incredible fear and shock, to catch her as she fell and lie her down on the floor. Abby was gasping, trying to speak, but no words would come. She tried to sign, but her hands were shaking and he didn't understand the movements of her fingers as Gibbs did. He caught her hand, talking to her; trying to find some way to stop the blood seeping from the wound just below her ribs.  
'It's okay, Abby...stay with me...I'll...do...something...hold on...' he stammered, trying to comfort her though his mind was whirling deeper and deeper into a black pit of panic and despair, reason draining away like the blood from Abby's wound. 'I'll - oh, God, Abby, I'm sorry...I'm sorry if I'm hurting you...' he said, as he carefully pulled the knife out of Abby's wound. She groaned with agony as he pulled the sharp, long knife from her body, feeling sick. He managed to put the knife where he could keep it out of Mikel's reach, beside him, before turning back to Abby.

_You failed me..._

The pool of blood around her was growing. He gasped with horror and shock to see her blood all over his hands from removing the knife from her wound. Her eyes were half-closed, the beautiful green irises rolling back into her head. He took hold of her hand again, feeling how cold she was getting; hating himself for not being able to help her...to save her...Never letting go of her hand, he felt around on the table behind him for Abby's phone, barely able to get the right numbers as he dialed; trying to stem the blood with the hem of Abby's nightdress as the phone rang.  
'Gibbs...Gibbs...it's Tim...Abby...Abby's - Abby's been stabbed, it was Mikel, I don't know how he got here...we're in her apartment, she's losing a lot of blood...I can't - I don't - yes...Boss? Boss?' Gibbs had already hung up. Tim could only pray he would be here soon, bringing the paramedics with him. Abby seemed to have heard Gibbs' voice down the phone; she had tried to lift her head as he spoke to Tim. Tim cradled her head as she lowered it again.  
'That was Gibbs, Abby; he's coming soon...he'll bring the EMTs and you'll be fine; they'll be able to help you...' His voice lacked conviction and they both heard it. Mikel was pale and shaking, backing away from Abby lying in a pool of blood on the floor. Tim looked at him and he stopped, the ice-cold fury in the young agent's eyes rooting him to the spot. Tim turned back to Abby.  
'Abby...you've got to stay with me, you've got to stay awake...Abby! Abby, don't close your eyes...' Her eyelids were flickering closed as her eyes rolled back in her head again. 'Abby, please; don't die...you can't die...I don't know what I'll do if you die...please, stay with me...Abby, I love you' he said, his eyes blurring and stinging with tears as he looked at her. 'Please don't die...'  
Abby's back arched, her body jerking reflexively as she tried to cough. Tim slipped an arm around her and lifted her a little, afraid to move her too much for fear of worsening her injury. To his horror he saw that she was coughing up and choking on blood.  
'Abby, no...' he said, rubbing her shoulders while his own shook with the effort of keeping back his agonized sobs.  
She fell back against his arm, her body too weak from blood loss. Her eyes looked pleadingly up at him; seeing the tears in his.  
_Save me..._  
'Abby, I don't know how...please, hang on; do it for Gibbs, do it for the team...hold on...'  
_I can't, Timmy...help me.._

_You failed me..._

He bent towards her, drawing her bloodstained and form to him, holding her, trying to force back into her the life that was leaving her as rapidly as the blood still seeping from her deep stab wound. He could feel the blood soaking his shirt as he clung to her desperately, trying to hang onto her as she slipped away from him.  
'Abby, I love you...' he sobbed. 'Please...don't die...'  
As the words left his lips, he felt Abby's weak grasp on his shirt disappear. Horrified, his breath catching in his throat, he laid her back on the floor. A single glance told him Abby had stopped breathing. He pressed his fingers to her wrist, desperately seeking even the faintest pulse. There was nothing.  
'No...' he whispered, terrible grief coursing through his veins. He let Abby's hand, already growing cold, drop. He turned to Mikel.  
'YOU BASTARD!' he screamed. 'YOU MONSTER! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!...Look what you've done...!'  
Mikel looked fearfully at Tim, whose face was contorted in rage and grief.  
'I wanted to keep her...away from you, all of you...she was mine, always mine...Me and Abby-'  
'THERE NEVER WAS A YOU AND ABBY!' Tim yelled. 'YOU KILLED HER! YOU BASTARD...YOU MURDERER...'  
He threw himself to the floor beside Abby, willing her to wake up. But she never would. She had begged him, her beautiful green eyes had begged him to help her. And he hadn't. He had failed her...

_You failed me..._

'Timothy...' he heard a voice say. Spinning round, he expected to see Mikel; but instead there was Ducky; his wise old eyes looking older than ever from pain and emotion. A glance around the room told him he was in autopsy. He turned back to Abby. She was lying, her face blank with expression and paler than he had ever imagined she could be, on the autopsy table. Seeing Ducky's surgical instruments laid out brought a sick twist of foreboding to his stomach, imagining Abby being cut open like that. She had always been so alive. How could this have happened...? He allowed Ducky to place a hand gently on his shoulder.  
'There was nothing you could have done. Mikel only wanted one thing, and if he couldn't have it, he decided you couldn't either...'  
These words did nothing for Tim, who felt like the base of his stomach had just evaporated.  
'If I hadn't been there...if I hadn't been with her...she'd still be here...' he said in a strangled whisper.  
Ducky's experienced blue eyes surveyed Tim, still numb with shock and grief, his t-shirt and hands covered in Abby's blood. The man had just seen his girlfriend die...but Ducky, who had always looked at Abby as a favourite niece or granddaughter, still felt that if anyone had to be blamed for allowing Mikel to get to Abby, it was Tim. Looking into the medical examiners eyes, Tim saw it too.  
'We'll never know' Ducky said eventually, his voice weary and heavy. He moved past Tim towards the autopsy table.  
'Oh, Abigail...' he sighed. 'Not you too...'  
And nothing could have made Tim feel worse than the weight of responsibility for Abby's death weighing on his shoulders. He felt sick with grief, numb with shock. The room was spinning. He couldn't see Abby or Ducky anymore. _Sorry, Abby. Sorry..._

_You failed me..._

Now he was looking at her in her coffin; laid down for the last time in a sleep from which nobody could ever wake her. Her face was paler than ever, but her favourite black dress and bouquet of black roses covered the dreadful wound in her stomach and for the pallor of her face, she might have been sleeping. The rest of the team; and others, nameless, faceless people; stood around, watching the priest bless Abby for the final time. He could hear someone crying, and wondered who it was. His own cheeks were wet; and as he looked down at his hands, scrubbed a million times above the cuffs of his formal suit, he could still see them in his mind covered in Abby's scarlet blood. From this day forward, he felt he always would.  
The priest finished speaking and the small assembled crowd moved forwards to pay their final respects to her, Abby; their friend, colleague, daughter, sister...and in Tim's case, lover. His heart wrenched with grief and guilt as he remember that if they had listened to Gibbs and remained as friends and nothing more, she might still be alive and here with them. It was all his fault. He had failed.

_You failed me..._

He was last in line to say goodbye. He saw Gibbs lay Bert, Abby's stuffed hippo, down in the coffin with her. The gesture made him feel sick and sorry, seeing Gibbs have to say goodbye to yet another woman close to him - because of him. When he reached the coffin, he bent down beside her and kissed his fingers before pressing them to her cold lips.  
'I love you' he whispered as he did so. 'And I'm so, so sorry...-'  
'-You should be'. He heard Gibbs voice, harsh and brittle with anger. He turned to see the blue-eyed ex-Marine standing so close to him it startled him. Without speaking, Gibbs grabbed Tim and hauled him upright, shaking him like a naughty puppy.  
'You let this happen! You ignored what I said, you still persuaded her to carry on with you - and look where it got her! You killed her, as far as I'm concerned! If it wasn't for you, Probie, Abby would still be alive. How does that make you feel? You should have died, rather than let her take the knife from Mikel! You should have saved her' He lowered his voice and pulled Tim close to him, so they were almost nose to nose. 'Thanks to you, I've lost another one of my girls. I hope you're proud of yourself. You failed the whole team, and even worse you failed Abby...'  
He released Tim; who wasn't expecting it and fell to the ground beside Abby's coffin. Gibbs glared at him, pure hatred and disgust in his gaze. 'And you failed me'

_You failed me..._

A wave of grief-filled, suffocating darkness engulfed Tim; the reality of Abby's death overpowering him like a disease. He had let her die. He had failed. He looked one last time at her face, serene and chalk-white in death, and he couldn't take it anymore. Hot tears ran down his cheeks, spilling onto the lapels of his jacket. He was spiraling into oblivion, his failure weighing him down forever and the terrible truth, spoken in Abby's voice, echoing in his mind until his world ended.

_You failed me...

* * *

_

Tim opened his eyes, his heart and mind racing. The image of dead Abby refused to leave him as he sat up; doing it too quickly so lights exploded behind his eyelids. He was used to the nightmares; he had been haunted by them ever since Abby had been attacked in his own apartment weeks and months ago. He had never been able to stop thinking about what could have happened then; and even when he managed to drown it in his work during the day the harsh reality of the horrible events that could have happened came to the surface in the hated twilight time between sleeping and waking. He had seen her die so vividly and horrifically in his dreams that in the mornings he would rush to her lab to make sure she was alright. His heart was still pounding, and he couldn't get the image of Abby lying in her coffin, never to awake again, out of his head. Shuddering, he lay back against his pillows; but he knew sleep would never come now. The dreams always seemed so real, and that was what terrified him. The thought of losing Abby always did make his blood run cold, and now, he was shivering at the thought as he replayed his dream through his mind. Taking a deep breath, he made up his mind and reached for his mobile phone on the table beside his bed. Flipping it open and dialing before he changed his mind, he pressed it to his ear as he tried to steady his breathing. He needed to hear her voice...just...just in case.  
She answered on the last ring, sounding sleepy and grumpy but very much alive. Relief flooded his body as she picked up her phone and answered, the single word soothing the terror and foreboding the nightmares always left behind.  
'Hello?..'

_Under your spell again, I can't say no to you  
Crave my heart and its bleeding in your hand  
I can't say no to you...  
And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall  
Pour real life down on me  
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough  
Am I good enough for you to love me too?..  
So take care what you ask of me  
'Cause I can't say no..._

_

* * *

_(A/N: The song is Good Enough from Evanescence's last album. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far; next chapter should be up before our holidays end. Final chapter: Abby's _bete noire_) 


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